Why me
by It's only a dream. Or not
Summary: I just wrote this in class and stuff so yeah. I hope you enjoy blah blah blah just read the story. It has murder and stuff. Oh and a twist at the end. Your chicken if you don't read it


**this is a story I wrote for my class. You might not like it but oh well. I got a good grade, but I'm still going to touch it up a bit. Sorry for the typos. Oh and if this story sounds like anyone else's, sorry for that too. Also I don't own any other story that is even remotely like this.**

I was almost asleep when I heard a scream come from somewhere else in the house. I knew it was my mother. My feet hit the floor, as softly as I could, I ran to the door. A gun shot filled the air, making my ears ring. I stumbled away from the door and ran to my closet. When my hand touched the cold metal, a shiver went down my spine. I had to jiggle the knob to get it open; I stumbled over my things a few times trying to get into a corner in my closet. My hand pulled the knob on the door so it would shut. The only light that came into the closet was the sliver through the bottom of my door. There were no sounds other than my breathing and the sound of my eyelash touching my face to let a tear drop to the ground. That's when I herd it. The sound of my bedroom door opening, and the sound of boots walking across the floor, hard, but loud. For a moment, everything was still. I could hear the intruder behind the door, see the shadow of his boots under the door. Suddenly everything sped up, the door flew open and a man stood tall in front of me. A rancid smell radiated from the ugly tall man. He had scars all over his face and blood stained his shirt and boots; it looked fresh. His stubby hand reached out and grabbed the back of my shirt and drug me out. I screamed and kicked, trying to get away from him. In frustration he hit me in the face to shut me up. I was fading in and out, seeing only parts of things. One of the things I saw was a picture. He had been dragging me through the hallway when I saw it. It was a picture that my parents had taken of me earlier that day. I was in a light green, thi high dress with white flats. My curly brown hair cascaded down my shoulders and back. It was my birthday picture. Once we passed the hallway we entered the kitchen. Blood covered the floor and stained my pristine white pajamas. A body lay on the floor. Blond curly hair was drenched in blood. A bullet hole ruined her still beautiful face. "Mom!" I managed to squeak out. The tall man picked me up and tied me to a chair. In front of me was a handsome man. A man who thought me how to shoot a paintball gun. A man who loved me, and understood me, more than anyone in the world. The tall man raised a gun and pointed it to my fathers head. "Any last words?!" He spat at my father, but stared me in the eye. My father lifted his head and looked into my eyes. His chocolate brown eyes reflected my own. His dirt brown hair reflected my own. I was my fathers child in every way. "It's OK to let go, Sarah. I love you." The tall man fired the gun. "No!" I screamed, but it was to late. Blood splattered all over the wall, floor, and me. The tall man laughed a wicked laugh and pointed the gun at me. A sadistic smile played on the edge of his lips making him seem more homicidal than he already was. "Your next." I closed my eyes so I would see darkness instead of my dead parents. Before I knew what happened I herd sirens and the door but open. A gun shot, but I wasn't hit. I peaked my eyes open to see if I was dead. The tall man lay on the floor with a bullet in his stomach. A policeman came to me and untied me. My mind went blank. I saw colors. I saw strange people. Strange animals, and a hat. Underneath that hat was a curly mess. "Sarah!" A doctor yelled, trying to get my attention. I blinked mindlessly at her. She had platform blond hair and almost snow white skin, and piercing blue eyes. "You look like a queen." I whispered. She smiled a beautiful smile and winked at me. I was sitting on the porch of my house and the door was wide open. I could hear two police officers talking to one another. "He's gone. Put out a parent for his arrest, now!" One of them again in an angry voice. "Yes sir!" The other ran off somewhere else to do as he was told. A few days later I found myself in an orphanage. I spent the next year and a half getting made fun of by all the other kids there. They called me sphico. Demented and other horrible names. All because I talked to the only friends I had. The ones in my head. Later one day I was told that I was being adopted. I showed no feelings. The only time I did was when I was talking to the voices in my head. When I gathered my stuff I walked out and got into the car my new father owned. Something rancid filled the air making me want to gag. The man I was to know as my father turned to me, leaned down to my ear and said. "Your next."

 ** _i hope you liked it. I added more stuff to make it longer than my original assignment, but not much. I would like to see your comments on it and see what grade you would give me on it thx for reading. HAVE A GREAT SUMMER!😁😁😁🙆🙆🙆_**


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